Pure American Brother
by Kaetlynn
Summary: Memories belonging to someone else tangled inside a weapon. The Winter Soldier remembers, but he still doesn't understand. Work in progress.


Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or any of Marvel's characters. I'm just having fun with them. Spoilers, although is there anyone out there still who _doesn't _know what happens in _The Winter Soldier?_

Author's Note: This is my first foray into the fanfic world of the MCU. It is a work in progress, but I can promise I'll get updates up regularly. I want this story to be as unique of a recovery story as I can possibly write (I know there are a LOT of them). Each chapter will detail a memory (or memories) that The Winter Soldier/Bucky recovers. I would love to hear feedback and suggestions, what's working, what's not, etc. Feel free to let me know what you think! This isn't technically a first chapter, but rather a prologue. This story is inspired by Bruce Springsteen's "Lost in the Flood". So much of that song just screams Bucky to me. It's a good song, it's The Boss! Give it a listen if you like.

Any comments or feedback is much appreciated!

Pure American Brother

Prologue

_The ragamuffin gunner is returnin' home __like a hungry runaway._

* * *

The Soldier had gone rogue.

He had abandoned his directive, ignored protocol.

His Mission was still alive.

The Soldier had not only failed to execute his Mission, he saved his life of his Mission.

The Soldier didn't know who James Buchanan Barnes was. The Soldier didn't even know who Steve Rogers was, apart from the simple fact that Steve Rogers and his Mission are the same person.

The worst thing was the way he was suddenly aware of how fractured he was, as if all the parts of his mind was compartmentalized and jumbled; painfully unable to find his way out of the maze. Since that day on the helicarrier, he was seeing images in his mind. Dreams? Memories? The Soldier didn't know. The images would be prompted by the smallest, most insignificant thing.

That afternoon, outside the museum, there had been two boys running carefree in the sun. They were laughing, and had ice cream cones in hand. The Soldier was sitting on a bench, hat pulled down over his forehead, when he suddenly felt like all the oxygen drained from his lungs. He gasped for air as images bombarded his mind at a numbing speed.

_Front stoop of a tenement building in a big city. Hot summer day. Baseball game on the radio, the announcer's voice drifting out from an open window. The Dodgers. _

_New York City?_

_Two boys. Big for their age. Mean._

_Bullies._

_ Hulking over a small, frail boy seated on the steps, ice cream cone in his tiny hands. Vanilla droplets melting over his bony wrists and the hot pavement. _

_The Soldier could almost hear the droplets sizzle as they hit the ground. _

_Sadistic laughter. The liquid splatter of a scoop of melting vanilla hitting the sidewalk, then the hurried rush of feet in sneakers traveling to their next victim. _

_The boy's crestfallen face, tears splashing off his jutting cheekbones. _

_Another neighborhood boy, crossing the street. Ice cream cone in his hand. _

_A warm, shy smile. Outstretched arm, cone precariously perched between fingers. _

"_I'm James. You don't have to call me that, though, everybody else calls me Bucky." _

"_I'm Steve."_

"_Okay, Stevie. It's strawberry, eat it before it melts, okay?"_

Bucky. The same name Rogers insisted on calling him at each one of their meetings. The same name on display in the museum. The name still held no personal meaning for the Soldier, except now he had a frame of reference: an image, a dream sequence, a memory belonging to someone else.

This Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were childhood friends. Giving ice cream to someone who just had theirs tossed to the street by bullies was something that a friend would do. He couldn't say how he knew that, but he did.

Was that something the Soldier would do? He didn't know. First of all, he couldn't remember if he had ever eaten ice cream, and if he had, what it tasted like. He didn't know where that film in his head came from, was it implanted by Hydra?

The Captain would know. Finding him might be a little more difficult than when he was following a mission under orders. He could still find him by sundown.

Luckily, the Captain was looking for the Soldier too.

_To be continued in Chapter One_


End file.
